NEW HAMPSHIRE EXTENSION SERVICE 

J. C. KENDALL, Director 



ALL ALONE IN THE 
COUNTRY 




A ONE -ACT PLAY 



BY HENRY BAILEY STEVENS 



As printed in The Granile Monthly and presented at the New Hampshire 
College of Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts, January 12, 1 92 1 



PLAN OF STAGE 



Door 


Window 


Window 


Cupboard 


to side 








Door 


porch 






Sofa 




Stand with 










"Betty" 










Telephone 






Chair 


Victrola 


Electric 










Switch 






Reading Table 




Door to 




Chair 


Chair 


Door to 


Kitchen 








Front Hall 



Copies of this play may be secured at 15 cents each from the 
New Hampshire College Extension Office, Durham, N. H. Amateur 
performances of the play may be given free of all royalty charge. 



Copyright, 1921. by Henry Bailey Stevens 
©CI.D 5854S 

SEP-Dl9?| 



P5 3557 



ALL ALONE IN THE COUNTRY 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



5v Henrx Bailex Stevens 



Dramatis Personae : 
Susan Reynolds 
Aunt Polly Walker 
Dick Van Deuten 

(Scene: The living room of a 
New Hampshire farm house. The 
furnishings are simple but of a mod- 
ern type. At the center rear is a 
long, comfortable and well-uphol- 
stered sofa. A dress-form, or 
**Betty," as it is popularly called 
(made of gummed paper at a 'home 
demonstration' meeting) sits on a 
stand at its left. At the left front 
are a wicker lounge-chair and table, 
on which is an electric lamp with 
art-glass panels. There are papers 
and magazines on the table. In a 
corner is a victrola. A door at the 
left front opens to the front hall 
and one at the left rear to cup- 
board ; on the opposite side a door 
at the rear opens to the side porch 
and at the front to the kitchen. 
There is a telephone between the 
two doors at the right. At the 
rear a window looks out toward 
the mountains. Into the room from 
the front hall at left comes Susan 
carrying a traveling bag, followed 
by Aunt Polly, who is veiled, glov- 
ed and arrayed in a traveling cos- 
tume.) 

Susan (putting down the bag) ; 
Oh, I say. Aunt Polly, it's just great 
that you've come. Mother will be 
delighted. It's too good to be true. 

Aunt Polly: So this is little 
Susan, is it? It's too bad for them 
to call you Susie. 

Susan: Why, but they don't. 
Aunt Polly! Nobody does. 

Aunt Polly: It must be they do 



behind your back. (Sitting down) 
Well, the old place looks awfully 
natural. I thought I'd never get 
here — -changing at the Junction and 
stopping, the way the trains do in 
this part of the country, at every 
pair of bars. (She struggles with 
her veil.) 

Susan: Let me help you, Aunt 
Polly. (She helps her with her 
veil.) I'll take your veil, and I'll 
take your gloves — and your hat. 
Now are you comfortable? Oh, but 
mother'll be so sorry she's been 
away. She and Dad have just gone 
over to the Field Day at the four- 
corners. 

Aunt Polly: Well, the poor soul, 
I'm glad she's got away for one day. 
Up in the morning at four o'clock 
to. get breakfast, feed the chickens, 
carry in water from the well, wash 
the milk pail, bake and stew all 
morning over a hot kitchen fire — 

Susan: Why, Aunt Polly, you 
ought to see our pressure cooker ! 

Aunt Polly: I'm sure I don't 
know what that is, but I know 
what it is living on a farm, 
Susan. I was brought up here, and 
when I left twenty-six years ago, 
I vowed I'd never come back. And 
I don't know as I would, Susan, if 
it hadn't been as I said to John, 
"There's that girl up there that's 
still young. There may be no 
hopes for Nell, but there is some 
hopes for her. > I'll bet they call her 
Susie, and that she ain't been any- 
wheres except to Rockingham 
Academy, and can't go to no 
movies, nor meet any likely young 
men, and ain't been fitted to move 
in cultivated society. She can't 



240 



THE GRANITE MONTHLY 



have the advantag^es, John, that 
we could give her. And it's my 
duty, as I see it, to go up there and 
offer her a chance to make a change 
now while she's still young." Of 
course 1 know it would be awfully 
hard on your mother ; but as I says 
to John, anybody's a fool to w^aste 
themselves. If there's one thing 
I've always been thankful for, it's 
that I didn't w^aste myself. 

Susan: Aren't you funny, Aunt 
Polly ! 

Aunt Polly: Well, as I say, 
everything looks natural. The 
same old house fifty miles from 
nowhere, and the same old room. 
I declare, it smells natural too. 
(She sniffs) I alw^ays did hate the 
smell of a kerosene lamp. 

Susan: But Aunt Polly — 

Aunt Polly: Oh, I guess you 
can't tell me. It's very serious, 
Susan, very serious. Of course 
you don't realize, as I do, all the 
hardships of living like this, and 
t^he disadvantages. Just for one 
thin, for instance, take anybody's 
pernunciation. 

Susaii: Their what? 

Aunt Polly: Their pernuncia- 
tion, their language. Of course it 
ain't your fault, Susan, but I could 
tell, the minute I heard you speak 
that you didn't talk the way other 
people do. 

Susan: (blushing) Oh, you 
noticed that, did you? 

/]//;// Polly: Yes, you knov^ 
people in the country always say 
"caf'' when they ought to say 
"carf"— 

Susan: Why, I don't do that, 
Aunt Polly. You see, I've been 
practising pronunciation and all that 
sort of thing. I thought that was 
what you meant. 

Aunt Polly: You have, have you? 
(somewhat taken aback) Who's 
been teaching you? 

Susa)i: There's a young man 
staying up at the Jefferson's who's 



quite an artist. He's lived abroad, 
you know, and — 

Aunt Polly: You be careful about 
these artists and young men like 
that, Susan. 

Susan: Why, do you know any 
of them ? 

Aunt Polly: No, but I've read 
about 'em in the papers. A girl 
lots of times in the country don't 
understand about some things and 
don't realize what a terrible lot of 
immorality there is in the city, 
Susan. 

Susan: Why, Aunt Polly, I 
thought you wanted me to go to 
the city. 

Aunt Polly: (gasping for a min- 
ute) I want you to be brought up 
right, Susan, and to be a comfort 
to your parents. 

Susan: Oh, you're just an 
dear, Aunt Polly. (She goes up and 
kisses her, and then stands off and 
looks at her) but you are funny ! 
(She laughs roguishly.) Now please 
excuse me for a minute while I look 
at the dinner. (She goes out at 
front right.) 

(Aunt Polly picks up a news- 
paper and sighs. Suddenly the 
telephone bell rings.) 

Aunt Polly: (calling) Susan! 
Susan, there's somebody at the 
front door. (The bell rings again) 

Susan: (coming in laughing, her 
hands covered with flour) It's the 
telephone, Aunt Polly. Would 
you mind answering it? My hands 
are full of dough, (goes out) 

Aunt Polly: Mercy, I didn't real- 
ize you had a telephone. (At tele- 
phone) Hello! Yes, well no, this 
isn't Mrs. Reynolds. This is Mrs. 
Walker speaking. I'm visiting 
Mrs. Reynolds. \^es, you say a man 
has escaped — has escaped — you 
don't mean it! Last night? You 
don't say? And you say he's been 
traced in this direction? Wait a 
minute. Let me get it all straight 
now. You say he wears a striped 



ALL ALONE IN THE COUNTRY 



241 



shirt and trousers — without a hat — 
yes, I got that. And what did you 



say 



Shoes with nails in 'em. 



Most shoes do, don't they? Nails, 
yes, I got it. Well, what can we 
do Central? (blankly.) Yes, yes, 
we'll call you. (hangs up) Susan ! 
Susan ! 

(Susan appears in doorway.) 

Aunt Polly: Susan, have you got 
any gun in the house besides that 
old flintlock? 

Susan: Why, we haven't even 
got that. Aunt Polly. 

Aunt Polly: (triumphantly) I 
knew it ! Imagine living in the 
country fifty miles from nowhere 
without a gun. But I knew it. 
(She opens up her traveling bag.) 
I was just going to leave when I 
says to John, 'Tm goin' into a 
lonesome country, and there's no 
tellin' what'll happen. And I'll bet 
they haven't got a gun in the 
house." So I come forearmed. I 
guess I know the country. You 
can't tell me. (After diving about 
in the bag she produces a small 
revolver.) 

Susan: Look out. Aunt Polly! 
Please don't point it this way. 

Aunt Polly: Oh, you needn't be 
afraid. I know how to handle a 
gun. I was just lookin' to see if 
it was loaded right. 

Susan: But what are you going 
to do with it? 

Aunt Polly: I'm just going to 
put it right here on this window- 
sill in case of any emergency. 
Susan (dramatically) we have just 
been informed by the operator that 
at half past ten o'clock last night 
a man escaped from the state in- 
sane asylum. 

Susan: They always are escap- 
ing. I wouldn't have thought 
there'd be any left by now to es- 
cape. 

Aunt Polly: And w^hen last seen 
he was headed in this direction ! 



Susan: Did the operator say he 
was on this road? 

Aunt Polly: He was headed, she 
said, in the general direction of 
Salisbury. 

Susan: Oh, that's quite differ- 
ent. 

Aunt Polly: We can't take any 
chances, Susan. She said he was 
wearing a .striped costume without 
a hat, and his shoes had nails that 
show in the bottom. Hog-nails, 
the operator called them ; but 
there's so many kinds of nails-^ten 
penny and shingle and clapboard 
and wire and everything — I never 
did pay much attention to 'em. I 
guess It would be clear what they 
were all right. 

Susan: (mischievously) I do 
hope you'll earn a reward, Aunt 
Polly. 

Aunt Polly: It's no joking mat- 
ter, I can tell you. The man is 
criminally insane, and they say a 
desperate character. They .say he 
killed a man once. 

Susan: Supposing he should 
come in now, Aunt Polly, through 
that door there (pointing to the 
hall door opposite) do you know 
what I would do? I would take 
this biscuit — (she moulds up a lump 
of dough that is in her hands and 
holds it up) — and throw it at him 
just like this! (To the horror of 
Aunt Polly she throws the lump 
with considerable dexterity plump 
against the hall door. Then hasti- 
ly picking up the bulk of it she runs 
laughing back into the kitchen.) 

Aunt Polly: (aghast). And to 
think I've just invited her to my 
house ! 

Susan: (reappearing) Never 
fear. Aunt Polly! (She brings in 
a damp cloth and wipes the re- 
mains of the dough from the door 
and floor. I didn't put it in the 
oven ! There ! It's all clean again. 
I'm sorry. Aunt Polly (she runs up 



242 



THE GRANITE MONTHLY 



and kisses her impulsively), but you 
know we all have to waste more 
or less on practice shots. I'll wag- 
er you've wasted several boxes of 
cartridges on ^^our revolver. 

AiDit Polly: I'm afraid the lone- 
someness of the country isn't good 
for your nerves, my dear. 

Susan (soberly, beginning to play 
a part) : That's quite true, I sup- 
pose. Do you know, Aunt Polly, 
I often sit here in the twilight, 
looking out at the mountains, as 
they grow shaggy with the darken- 
ing purple of the descending night 
upon their forests, and cry out my 
bitter heart at the loneliness of it 
all. And then, as if in answer to 
me. I hear the call of a whip-poor- 
will or the hoot of an owl. And I 
sit there inconsolable, until sud- 
denly a little star pops out above 
the mountain. Oh, life is often 
cruel in the country. Aunt Polly. 
I am sure it isn't in the city. 

A tint Polly: (very much affected) : 
Poor child ! 

Susan : And then there are the 
long winter evenings with (stutter- 
ing for time) - with - as you say - 
with the smelly kerosene lamps. 
And the cold raw mornings when 
one shivers at the pump in the 
yard. Ugh ! (Shivering) but it's 
cold ! I'll wager you haven't w^ash- 
ed at the pump since you left here, 
Aunt Polly! 

Auut Polly: Why, I never did 
such a thing in my life, Susan. 
We always lugged the water into 
the house. 

Snsau: (Gasping for time) : Well, 
of course, you can do that if you 
want to ; but as for me, I - I - I 
always preferred the pump ! 

Au}it Polly: Susan Reynolds, you 
don't mean to tell me that you 
wash at the pump in that yard ? 
In that yard, in the plain sight of 
everybody ! 

Susan : Well, as you say, Aunt 
Polly, there's hardly ever anybody 
going l)y ! 



Aunt Polly: Well, if that isn't the 
countryfiedest thing ever heard of! 
I'm going right out there now and 
look. 

Susan (Hurriedly and confused- 
ly) : Oh, no-no - o ! Er- you 
see, the pump has - er - the pump 
is out of order just now. We had 
to take it up. W^e - we - Pll get 
you some water. Aunt Polly. I'll 
take you right up to the ba - the - 
the - spare room with it. You can 
wash and wash there to your 
heart's content. I should have 
given you the water before. You 
must be quite dusty. Sit right 
down, Aunt Polly. I'll be right 
back. Please sit still. (She fair- 
ly forces her into her chair, runs 
out to the kitchen, and in a minute 
comes back with a pitcher of 
w^ater.) It was quite unforgive- 
able of me. (With the pitcher in 
one hand and the traveling bag in 
the other she goes into the front 
hail, following Aunt Polly). There 
now, let's go right up-stair.s. The 
trains are very dirty, I know. They 
must be. This is the way up, you 
remember. I do hope everything 
seems quite natural. (The quick- 
ened tones of her voice die away, 
and in an instant are heard again.) 
There now, I hope you wnll be com- 
fortable. (She appears in door- 
way, calling back) Aunt Polly ! 
If there's anything more you want, 
let me know. (She closes the hall 
door and stands for a moment pon- 
dering.) I wonder what they will 
do to me when they find out. But I 
simply couldn't have shown her to 
the bathroom. Some way it didn't 
r.eem fair. And the poor kerosene 
lamps! (She laughs and skips 
suddenly across the room to the 
switch.) The poor long winter 
evenings with the smell of kero- 
sene ! (She switches on and off the 
electric light.) It must have been 
the oil-stove that bothered her. 
That makes me think — (She goes 
out at right to kitchen.) 



ALL ALONE IN THE COUNTRY 



243 



(In a moment the door from the 
side porch opens, and Van Deuten 
enters. He is a young man, bare- 
headed, and is wearing an athletic 
costume — a coat sweater that re- 
veals underneath a jersey with 
broad blue and white bands, short 
running pants that have a black 
stripe on the side, and running 
shoes with half-inch spikes on the 
soles. The shoes force him to 
walk on his heels indoors.) 

Van Deuten: Susan! O Susan- 
girl ! (He hobbles across the floor 
and looks out toward kitchen. Sees 
nobody and closes door.) Won- 
der if they've gone to the Field 
Day. Confound these shoes. 
They're not the thing for cross- 
country. (Kicks them off in mid- 
dle of floor and stands in socks. 
Hesitates, then starts victrola, and 
as the music catches his fancy, be- 
gins to dance. Suddenly notices 
"Betty" and going up to it, kneels 
in mock-heroics, then picks it up 
and dances with it. Suddenly Aunt 
Polly appears in doorway and sees 
him, darts back with muffled ex- 
clamation without being seen. Van 
Deuten finishes dance, returns 
"Betty" to its position, stops vic- 
trola, and sits down with sigh to 
read the paper. His back is to the 
hall door, and Aunt Polly reappears 
cautiously and surveys him.) 

Aunt Polly (to herself) .■ Striped 
costume! Bareheaded! And shoes 
with nails in 'em ! (She hesitates 
for a moment and then slips across 
to window, seizes the revolver and 
levels it at Van Deuten's head. Her 
coolness and self-mastery are evi- 
dent as she stands waiting. A- 
ware of something unusual in the 
room, Van Deuten looks around 
and sees her. He overturns chair 
in his excitement and falls to floor.) 

Van Deuten: My God! 

Aunt Polly: Sit right where you 
are, young man, without swearing! 
I know all about you. (Van 
Deuten attempts to speak.) Not a 



word ! Put your hands above your 
. head. (Van Deuten obeys quick- 
ly.) Have you a hat? 

Van Deuten (amazed) .• No, but my 
dear woman — 

Aunt Polly (threatening with the 
revolver) ; Not a word ! I thought 
not ! You have no hat ! You ad- 
mit that. Y^ou wear a striped cos- 
tume; anybody can see it's a crazy 
costume. You cannot deny that. 
Y'our shoes have nails in them. 
Crazy sort of nails. And you have 
the face of a criminally insane per- 
son if I ever saw one in my life ! 

Van Deuten: There is some mis — 

Aunt Polly: (Towering and threat- 
ening with the revolver) Not an- 
other word. I won't stand for it. 
I will shoot at the slightest provo- 
cation. I wU shoot unless you obey 
me instantly. Do you understand 
that, young man? Answer me, 
yes or no. Do you understand 
that? 

J^an Deuten (aghast) ; Y^es, I un- 
derstand. 

Aunt Polly: Y^ou will — (She hesi- 
tates, then moves around room with 
revolver kept pointed at Van 
Deuten's head until she reaches 
the door of the cupboard at left 
rear. Opens door dramatically) 
Y^ou will please to go in there at 
once. Hurry. (Van Heuten obeys 
hobbling.) Now if I hear a yip 
from you, young man, or the slight- 
est noise, I will shoot through the 
door. Do you understand? (Van 
Deuten is silent.) Answer me, 
yes or no. Do you understand 
that I will shoot ?^ 

Van Deuten (Hopelessly).* Y"es. 
(She closes the door with a bang 
and locks it.) , 

Aunt Polly: I must telephone to 
the authorities. (Accent on the it) 
(She hurries to the telephone, takes 
down the receiver and waits ex- 
pecting" the operator to answer.) 
Hello! Hello! I never saw such 
a place. I suppose the Central is 
out feeding the chickens ! Hello, I 



244 



THE GRANITE MONTHLY 



say ! (v^hc jigs the receiver-hook 
iij) and cU)\vn.) Hello ! , 

/'(/// PcKtoi (From the cupboard); 
"^'ou'd better ring- the bell, madam. 

.-///;// Polly: Don't let me hear 
another word from you, do you 
hear? (Sees bells on box and tries 
to hit them together.) I never 
heard of such an arrangement. 
How do you ring this bell anyway? 
Imagine having a telephone like 
this! (Addressing the cupboard) 
How do you ring the bell? (No 
answer) (Louder) I say, how do 
you ring the bell? Are you deaf? 

Van Dciitcu: You requested me 
to be silent, madam, and I shall 
steadfastly refrain from answering. 

Aunt Polly: Answer me at once, 
or I will shoot. Do you hear? 

/ '(/// Dcittcu : You will have to 
shoot then. This is a principle, 
and I may as well die for it. 

AiDit Polly (In despair finds knob 
and rings): Operator! This is 
Mrs. Walker talking. I want 
Emergency! Emergency! Don't 
you understand? E-mer-gen-cy ! 
What kind of a place is this? Oh, 
you're emergency too. Yes, I said 
this is Mrs. Walker talking. Mrs. 
Walker, yes, at the Reynolds farm. 
I want you to inform the proper 
authorities that I have captured the 
man they are hunting for single- 
handed. And that he is at present 
in my persession. Yes, that's what 
I .said, in my persession. I want 
them to come and get him at once. 
At once ! Rightaway, do you un- 
derstand? Thank you! Oh, it was 
nothing at all. It w^as very simple! 

ran Dciitcii: (Echoing): Yes, 
cjuite simple ! 

Aunt Polly (Hanging up the re- 
ceiver) : Susan ! O Susan ! (She 
oi)ens the door to the kitchen and 
calls loudly.) Well, where have 
you been? (Susan apjiears) Sus- 
an, I've caught him, do you under- 
stand ? 

Susan (Eyeing the revolver) : 
Caught whom? 



Aunt Polly (Waving the revolv- 
er) : The man who escaped ! And 
I've got him locked up right over 
there in that cupboard ! 

Susan: You don't say, Aunt 
Polly! How jolly! 

l\in Dcutcn: Yes, very jolly! 

(Susan starts at the sound of the 
voice.) 

Aunt Polly: Don't you let me 
hear a yip from you again, young 
man! Do you understand? (She 
waves the revolver) Or I will 
shoot ! The idea of his mocking 
us ! 

Susan (Running up to her and 
whispering) : Oh, do be careful, 
Aunt Polly ! . It might go ofT. Tell 
me, what does he look like ? 

Aunt Polly: Oh, you'd know the 
instant you saw him that he's an 
escaped lunatic. (Groans from the 
the closet) Striped shirt and 
trousers and no hat, and great nails 
as long as that in his shoes. And 
hi.s face — you ought to see his face ! 
Pie looks like a criminally insane 
person if I ever saw^ one. (Moans 
from the cupboard) Imagine ! — 
W^hen I came dowm the stairs, he 
was dancing around with that im- 
modest thing in his arms ! (Points 
to Betty) 

Susan: Say, you're a brick, Aunt 
Polly! You're a heroine! Did he 
struggle at all? 

Auiit Polly: How could he? In 
an instant I had the revolver at his 
head. *Tf you move a muscle," 
I says, **your brains'll never give 
the w^orld any more trouble !" And 
he wasn't so crazy but what he un- 
derstood that ! 

Susan: Oh dear! I'm so sorry! 
Oh, what a vexatious thing ! 

Aunt Polly: What do you mean, 
child? What is there to be sorry 
about? I'd like to know. I guess 
you'd have been sorry if it hadn't 
been for me ! 

Susan: Oh, what a vexatious 
thing! If I had onl}- been here — 
Just think! — I could have thrown 



ALL ALONE IN THE COUNTRY 



245 



the dough-ball right at him in 
earnest! Wouldn't it have been 
jolly? 

Aimt Polly: I hope it will be a 
lesson to the entire family never to 
stay another night in this house 
without a loaded revolver. 

Susan: I really think hereafter 
we'll make father carry one when 
he goes out to milk the cows. 

Aunt Polly (Pacing up and down 
the floor) : I telephoned the au- 
thorities and I expect they'll be 
here for him most anytime now. 
I hope so ! 

Susaii: Now, Aunt Polly, you 
ought to know the country authori- 
ties better than that. 

Aunt Polly (In a low tone) : I 
shall want to change my dress be- 
fore they come, Susan. I should 
hate to have them find me like 
this. So I want you to take this 
revolver, Susan, and stand here on 
guard. (She hands her the re- 
volver which Susan takes ginger- 
ly.) The door is securely locked, 
and he has strict orders not to move 
in the slightest degree. If he does, 
call me at once. Be very careful 
of the revolver. I always hate to 
see anybody use one Avho ain't used 
to it. 

Susau: Oh, I quite understand. 
You needn't have the slightest fear. 

(Aunt Polly goes out at left 
front. Susan follows her to the 
door and listens until she is sure 
Aunt Polly is on the stairs. Then 
she struggles with the revolver un- 
til she has opened the barrel^ when 
she picks out the cartridges one by 
one and hides them under a pillow 
on the sofa.) 

Susan: There! That's much 
safer. (She then strides up toward 
the cupboard door and levels the 
weapon at it.) Hello, the cup- 
board ! 

Van Deuten: Susan, open up, will 
you? That's a good girl! I've 
played 'coop' here about long 
enough. 



Susan: So it zvas Dick! (Ad- 
dressing him) I understand, sir, 
that you are a very desperate char- 
acter. 

Van Deuten: Susan! 

Susan: That you are a criminal, 
and that (snorting with glee) one 
has only to see your face to know 
at once — 

Fa/? Deuten: Wait till I catch 
you ! 

Susan: To know at once that 
you are an escaped lunatic ! 

Van Deuten: I'll make you sorry 
for this ! 

Susan: Not a word in there! 
Not a 3np from you, young man, or 
your brains will spatter the cup- 
board ! Do you understand that 
you are a prisoner? (Chortling) A 
prisoner? Answer me! 

Van Deuten: I've done nothing 
for the last half hour but answer 
bullying women like a school-boy ! 

Susaji: It was high time that 
somebody took you in hand, young 
man. I have known that for 
months. 

Van Deuten: Oh, I say, Susan, 
I want some air and sunlight in my 
cell. 

Susa]i: You are absolutely and 
indisputably in my power, and you 
have no recourse. (She taps on 
the door with the revolver.) 1 
know from past observations of you 
that you won't -even start a hun- 
ger-strike. 

Van Deuten: If you don't let 
me out, I shall make it known pub- 
licly that this utter fool of a woman 
is a relative of yours. 

Susan: Oh, I should love to 
hear you when you make it 
known publicly. I can just hear 
you at the postoffice of an even- 
ing. (Mocking) "Here, was I, 
Dick Van Deuten. the artist, out 
for "me daily trot" after a morn- 
ing's hard work with the brush. I 
was wearing my running costume — 
nothing crazy about the costume, 
gentlemen, I submit — when all of 



246 



THE GRANITfE MONTHLY 



a sudden a perfect fool of a woman 
holds nie up with a revolver and 
assures me that 1 am an escaped 
lunatic. What utter rot, gentle- 
men ! She is from the city, a rela- 
tive of the Reynolds famly, which 
of course tells you what an ass she 
must be. And this woman, after 
insulting- me and repeatedly declar- 
ing that my features belong to the 
criminal type, this woman locks me 
up, gentlemen, at the point of a 
revolver. Locks me up in the cup- 
board, gentlemen ! Of course it is 
obvious that the whole affair is 
preposterous and that the Reynolds' 
and all their relatives are perfect 
asses." What sympathy will be 
aroused among the people waiting 
for their mail ! I fairly weep ! 

Va)i Dciitcn: You hyena-woman! 
(Pounds on the door) 

Susan: Oh, but vengeance is 
sweet ! And now shall we have a 
look at the prisoner, or shall we 
keep him in confinement until the 
authorities arrive? (She rattles 
the lock as if unlocking it, while 
Van Deuten thumps on the other 
side of the door.) Not just yet, 
young man. The opportunity is 
too glorious not to prolong it. Do 
you forswear all vengeance? 

J 'cm Dciitcn: Y\\ be hanged if I 
do. 

Susan: Half an hour longer then ! 
Do vou confess y»ur crimes? 

ran Dcutcn: No, but I confess 
my criminal intentions. 

Susan: Two hours longer then. 
Do you admit your lunacy? 

Van Dcutcn: Yes, willingly. 

Susan: Then, as is the custom in 
this country, we will give you 
freedom. (She unlocks the door 
and \'an Deuten h()bl)les out. 
Susan is convulsed with laughter. 
\'an Deuten blinks at the light and 
holds aloft a jar of jam he has 
taken from the cupboard.) 

l\in Dcutcn: Who said hunger- 
strike ? 

Susan: ( )h, what an obvious 



criminal ! Notice the striped cos- 
tume with its murderous shoes. 
Mark closely the hard lines on the 
face, the meager brain capacity, 
and the low slanting forehead ! 

Van Deuten: Susan, I'm nearly 
famished ! All this has come on top 
of a five-mile run. I went over to 
Rumney and back across the pas- 
tures in 55 minutes today. 

Susan: Poor man! We'll get 
him some tea right away ! (She 
goes out to kitchen.) 

Van Deuten: (Opening up the jam 
and sniffing) Now a feller might 
enjoy himself, I should say, pro- 
vided that she-loon stays upstairs. 
And provided' we're not visited by 
the authorities ! So she's from the 
city ! The most fragrant Reubs 
Fve ever seen hailed from some 
side-street in Boston or New York ! 
(Seeing the revolver which Susan 
has laid down.) By the way, why 
shouldn't I make her stay upstairs? 
(He thinks for a minute while the 
idea grows and then steps with de- 
termination to the hall door, opens 
it and growls loudly) Er-err-r! 
woman, you move a step at your 
peril ! Prepare to di-ie. I have cut 
the jugular veins of three black 
calves, and now I shall seek the 
old cow herself ! Er-er-rr-r ! 

(Loud screams are heard from 
upstairs. Susan rushes in from 
kitchen.) 

Susan: Dick! You'll give her 
hysterics ! (She pushes him aside 
and calls) It's all right. Aunt Polly! 
I have him completely in control. 
It'.s perfectly, safe. (To Van Deu- 
ten dubiously) I think she's com- 
ing down. 

Van Dcutcn: I've a good mind to 
take the gun and drive her into the 
cupboard just to show her what its 
like ! 

Susan: You'll do no such thing! 

(He beats her to the table, 
snatches up the revolver and covers 
Aunt Polly as she enters.) 

/'(/;/ Dcutcn: Er-r-r ! Not a 



♦ 



ALL ALONE IN THE COUNTRY 



247 



word there! Into the^ :€upboard 

with you ! ■ ■f'w ■ 

(There are wild shrieks. Susan 
chases Van Deuten about the room, 
crying, "It isn't loaded, Aunt Polly ! 
Don't be afraid!" Van Deuten 
keeps up a mock growling- which 
quiets as he finally allows Susan to 
take the revolver away from him.) 

Susan: There's really nothing to 
fear. You see I let him out! 

Aunt Polly: You let hirh out! 

Susan (thinking hard); Yes, you 
see I — I had to geit the tea things. 
We have to serve tea at four o'clock, 
you know, every afternoon ! 

Aunt Polly (Her attention dis- 
tracted from Van Deuten by this 
remark): Serve tea ! You don't 
mean you serve tea out here in the 
country ! 

Susan (Opening the door to kit- 
chen and pulling out the tea 
wagon) : Yes, we have to relieve 
the country life, you know, as much 
as we can, so we always have a cup 
just before we do the milking. 

Aunt Polly: Well, I never! 

Fa/z Deuten: You've no: idea how. 
much easier it makes the milking ! 

Aunt Polly : And y o u have are a 1 
tea-wagon! 

Susan: I made it myself, i. Not 
bad, is it? (She pours the, tea.) 

Attnt Polly: I feel awfully kind 
of funny ! 

Susan: You mustn't mind him 
(nodding at Van Deuten.) As 
soon as I saw him, you know, I 
recognized him. 

Aunt Polly: You don't mean it! 

Susan: Yes, he used to live up 
this way. I'll introduce him to you. 
Let me make you better acquaint- 
ed with Mr. Van Deuten, Mrs. 
Walker. 

Van Deuten (bowing) : I hope 
we're quite. 

Aunt Polly (Acknowledging the 
introduction wide-eyed, but unable 
to address 'him) : But what did he 
mean when he shouted like that? 



Susan: Oh, he jusH: has fits of 
talking in that way. It doesn't 
mean anything^ but it gave him an 
awfully bad reputation. 

Aunt Polly: I should think it 
would. 

Susan: Sit down now, Mr. Van 
Deuten, and enjoy your tea. (Van 
Deuten glares at her, but the temp- 
tation to obey is too great, and he 
sits down in the lounge-chair w^here 
he devours the sandwiches and 
cakes hungrily.) (To Aunt Polly) 
-Yes, it's a sad story. I'll tell it to 
3'OU. (Whispers) You know he is 
the descendant of a very famous 
Dutch family^ '^ ' ' * 

Aunt Polly: You don't mean it. 

Susan: Yes, one of the original 
patroons. 

Aunt Polly: I thought he looked 
kind of dark-complected! 

Susan: He used to live over 
here in the valley on the Kearsarge 
road ; but it got him in the end. 

Aunt Polly: What do you mean? 
W^hat got him ? 

Susan: Oh, the loneliness of New 
Plampshire life! The bleak, de- 
serted hills ! And the utter and be- 
wildering loneliness ! 
. Aunt Polly: Poor fellow ! 

Susan: He used to .shell beans 
for instance until eleven o'clock at 
night just for the sociability of it. 
And at three o'clock in the morning 
he used to tell me, it was such a 
relief to meet the cows again ! All 
day long he used to hoe the weary 
rows of corn without meeting even 
the postman. And in the winter 
the unending stretches of dazzling 
white snow maddened: him so that 
when he met a man one day, he 
didn't know how to behave and so 
he killed him. (Van Deuten's face 
is a study during this recital.) 

Aunt Polly: How little we realize 
tragedies like that in the city! 

Van Deuten: I was in the city 
once, but I shall never be able to go 
again. 



248 



THE GRANITE MONTHLY 



.Imit Polly: Isn't it pathetic? 
Really, my dear, when I think of 
his siitrerings, I can hardly make 
up my mind to turn him over to 
the police. Perhaps if he only had 
a few months of real living in the 
city, he would recover. 

Susan: That's what the doctor 
said. 

Aunt Polly: You don't mean it? 
The doctor said that? (The honk 
of an automobile is heard in the 
yard. Aunt Polly starts up.) 
Here they are now after him. 
Quick, young man ! There is only 
a minute! (She fairly raises him 
by the sweater collar.) Take that 
door and run for your life. (He 
slips his .shoes on some way as she 
hurries him toward the front door.) 
Hide in the woods; and if you can 
only get to the city, inquire for the 
Y. AI. C. A. They will give you a 
bed and take care of you. Per- 



haps you can still be a useful citi- 
zen. Run ! 

Van Dcutcn (Going) ; Madam, I 
shall always remember you in my 
prayers. (Exit) 

Aunt Polly (Closing the door be- 
hind him).- Tell them he got away 
from us, Susan. Tell them he took 
the other road, down through the 
pasture. 

Susan (Looking out of the win- 
dow) : Why, it wasn't the police, 
Aunt Polly! It's Mother and Dad 
back from the Field Day ! 

Aunt Polly: Your mother and 
father ! You don't mean that you 
own a motor? 

Susan: Why yes. Aunt Polly. 
Nearly every farmer has one now- 
adays. You see, we have to have 
to have something to relieve the 
terrible loneliness of country life ! 
(Curtain) 



PIPES OF PAN 

By Elizabeth Hope Gordon 

"Come into the woods," call the pipes of Pan, 

"Come into the fields and play." 
Shrill and sweet on the wind float the notes to me, 

"Come into the woods," they say. 

"Afar by the brook lies your childhood, lost 

With the coming of care and of pain ; 
If you pass through green cresses and over the moss. 

You may be as a child again. 

"For the new baby leaves are unfolding their hands. 

With wee wrinkled palms outspread ; 
The arbutus breath is astir on the breeze ; 

In the swamp maple torches flame red. 



"So come to the woods with the soul of a child. 

Come into the woods away. 
See, the .soft grasses bow to Pan's twinkling feet- 

Ah, the lure of the pipes that play ! 



LIST OF PROPERTIES 
Needed for Play 



Traveling bag 
Papers and magazines 

for table 
Flour and dough 
Revolver 
Wash-pitcher 
Towels 
Automobile horn 



Decorations for room 

Table electric lamp 

Electric switch 

Betty, or home-made dress-form 

Wall telephone 

Tea-wagon( preferably home-made) 

Tea-set, sandwiches, etc. 

Jar of jam 




Susan: "It's all right, Aunt Poi ly ! It isn't loaded 



